


Ill and Impeccable

by AStupidUserName420



Category: French Revolution RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Sickfic, not porn for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 13:45:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14238570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AStupidUserName420/pseuds/AStupidUserName420
Summary: Walking home in the snow is a bad idea. Good thing Maximilien has a very nice boyfriend.





	Ill and Impeccable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [billspilledquill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/billspilledquill/gifts).



> A/N: I’m sick and bored and last time I messed with Antoine so this time it’s Max’s turn. UnBeta’d. L Also I’d like to henceforth dedicate all of my writing about these losers to cantgetoversns. Thank you. (Although I know these aren’t the adventures of Maximilien Robespierre: Sex Kitten, sorry.)
> 
> A note on Maximilien’s name: Because his nickname ‘Max’ is anachronistic, I try not to use it when I’m writing about him in the 18th century. However, everything else? Fair fucking game. Also, does anyone else think that Max would be vegetarian?

 

It all started with it snowing in late March.

It wasn’t unusual for there to be snow in the Parisian basin in late March. But Maximilien had been working late and was caught right in the thick of the flakes falling down in wet messy layers.

He curled his hands tighter inside of his old woolen coat and kept his eyes on the sidewalk so he could dodge puddles more easily.

In nice weather, the walk about to the flat was twenty minutes tops. In the snow and wind it took Maximilien nearly double that and passing cars kept dowsing the bottom of his pants in freezing cold water from the gutter. In all Max was not happy by the time he was stepping into the flat.

Antoine leaned out from the kitchen. He raised a pierced eyebrow at him shivering on the welcome mat.

“It’s snowing.”

Max shot him a deeply unimpressed look. Occasionally Antoine’s sense of humor could be distinctly grating. Antoine smiled slightly and brought out a cup of coffee, so hot it made Max’s fingers tingle. Antoine found himself promptly forgiven, with a gentle kiss to his cheek.

After Maximilien got dry and changed into non stained clothing, wearing one of Antoine’s clean shirts because it made him smile, they sat close on the couch, Max drinking his coffee and Antoine’s arm wrapped around his shoulders. The snow wasn’t so bad when you could be inside with someone who wanted to hold you, and there was hot soup waiting to be eaten on the stove.

“What kept you?” Antoine asked as they ate. Usually Max protested eating on the couch, since Brount then thought he was allowed to beg, but he was too tired to move. Brount rested his huge head on Max’s knee, staring at him.

“Mirabeau left early, he’s spending the week in Monaco, but we have a huge case to prep for. It’s part of the embezzlement that Capet’s wife committed. So he’s gone, but we all have to continue on, however some of us,” Max scowled, thinking of Gilbert Motier, “think that we can relax since he’s gone.”

Antoine patted his shoulder.

“What of Marat?” Max asked.

Antoine smiled slightly, leaning against him. “He is Marat. He’s probably still where I left him, bent in half over his laptop and arguing passionately with a conservative, whilst also being very angry with the left for its inaction.”

Maximilien smiled slightly. “He’s perfect for you, monsieur I-will-fight-them-all.”

Antoine leaned closer. “Not as perfect as you are for me, rabid lamb.”

Max placed his hand on Antoine’s chest, feeling his heart beat under the fingertips. They kissed, just a brief touch of lips to lips.

The rest of the night was spent quietly on the couch. Since Maximilien had so much trouble getting home, Antoine volunteered to walk Brount.

His dark silky hair was dotted with snow when he came back in and Brount was damp.

Max brushed his hair off fondly, dried the dog and they went to bed together, the yellow street lamps reflecting the snow into the bedroom windows.

Wrapped under Antoine’s arm and warm under the covers Maximilien went to bed with very little concern.

XXX

The next morning Maximilien sat and stretched. The room spun slightly and Max shook his head to clear it. Antoine groaned and wrapped a stubborn arm around his waist when he attempted get off the bed.

“Non, stay,” he mumbled. Max smiled softly and patted his back.

“I have work mon cher. And you have school.”

Antoine groaned again and rolled over on his back. Max got up and walked to the bathroom.

“I hate it when you’re right!”

Maximilien smiled around his toothbrush. It was funny because it was a lie.

XXX

They parted for the day and it wasn’t till the midmorning when Maximilien was on his fourth cup of coffee that he realized he was uncomfortably warm. He took off his suit jacket and continued working.

Max sat down to lunch with Couthon and Danton when he realized that he was still hot and that he had no desire to eat. He had another cup of coffee and listened to them discuss the EU reform. It wasn’t unusual for him to not be hungry, especially when he was busy. He gently flapped a spare pamphlet in his face, and stared off into the distance.

“Max, you doing alright?” Danton asked him, eyebrow raised. He smiled sheepishly and lowered the ad-hoc fan.

“Oui, sorry. I’m a little tired.”

The two Georges glanced at each other in dubious exasperation.

“Can’t bloody live with him,” Georges Danton rumbled.

“Can’t very well expect the case prepare itself,” Georges Couthon agreed.

XXX

Max locked himself in his office after that, mildly slighted. He opened the window a touch and let the cold air in. The he worked with his back bent over and staring intently at his screen till there was a knock on the door.

“Stop sulking and let me drive you home, it’s six already,” Danton called through it.

Max opened the door, wearing his suit jacket and coat, holding his bag. “I was not sulking.”

Danton grinned viciously. “’Course not.”

XXX

“You’re dry this time,” Antoine remarked when Max entered. “Who gave you a ride?”

Max opened his mouth to reply but a sudden burst of coughing caught him off guard. He covered his mouth as his lungs contracted painfully. When he was done, Antoine was staring at him.

“Are you alright?”

Maximilien waved his hand though the air. “I just had something in my throat, don’t look so worried.”

Antoine kept his careful blue eyed gaze on him as they ate dinner. Max didn’t cough anymore, and a warm shower helped shake the feeling of tightness in his chest.

He dried himself and dressed for bed. Antoine nearly dragged him down to the mattress when he entered the bedroom, pinning him to the bed.

“You aren’t sick, are you?” He murmured into his ear. Max licked his lips.

“No, no of course not.”

“Hmm.” Antoine rolled off of him lazily, eyeing him up. “We’ll see, won’t we?” Max had never heard a sweet sentiment sound so threating before.

XXX

The next morning Maximilien sat up and then immediately laid back down as the room turned in dizzying circles around him. He shut his eyes and waited for the pounding in his head to stop, or for his stomach to calm.

As he concentrated on his breathing, he felt the bed bend under Antoine’s weight.

“Maxime? Are you alright?”

He cracked a single eye open to look up at his lover’s face.

“I think…I think I might be ill,” he croaked.

Antoine frowned, and placed a hand to his forehead, then winced.

“You’re hot.”

“Merci.”

Antoine glared down at him, and pushed a bang out of his face. “That is not in the least bit amusing. I getting your phone and you are letting them know you can’t come in today.”

Maximilien gaped at him. “Antoine I can’t possibly-”

“You can and you will if I have to supervise you all day.” With that the younger man rolled off the bed and flounced off to the living room in high temper. He returned momentarily to find Maximilien struggling to sit up in bed. He handed over the phone.

“Tyrant,” Max muttered under his breath before coughing harshly. Antoine leaned down and kissed his cheek.

“You hate it when I’m right.”

XXX

Maximilien soon found himself wrapped in one of Antoine’s larger sweatshirts, with a blanket around his shoulders and all of the other bedding piled on top of him. Antoine plied him with the medicine they had in the flat then told him that he was under no circumstances to move until Antoine returned. Then the door snapped shut.

Brount was on the bed now, laying his massive Great Dane body across the foot of it and Max was drifting in and out of consciousness. He was uncomfortable but exhausted. Every time he opened his eyes it was like a white hot needle being shoved into his temple, but he was shivering under the blankets and really wishing he had another warm body against his.

Just when Max was finally comfortable his bladder disturbed him and he was forced to leave his cocoon of warmth to pad across the cold floor to the bathroom.

He was drifting off again, head still pounding when the door opened and he heard the rapid stride of Antoine crossing the flat.

“I’m back and I’m bearing soup, tea, and ice cream. But first, you’re taking the full measurement of this _lovely_ cough syrup.” Antoine’s cool hand gently stroked over his face. “How are you mon cher?”

Max curled tighter into himself, throat working furiously. “Tired. Cold,” he murmured at last.

“I’ll be back in a moment, and then you’ll be more comfortable,” Antoine promised.

Max nodded muzzily, eyes tightly shut.

It felt like only a second before Antoine was gently sitting him up and forcing something vile into his mouth. He gagged, eyes flying open to stare moist eyed at the younger man.

“I’m sorry, Maxime. But it’s the way it has to be,” he gently cradled his face. “Here, lay back down and I’ll come back in a moment. Let me just grab you some water.”

Max nodded, too tired to try and argue. His mouth twitched up slightly, thinking how he didn’t know how much a mother-hen Antoine was. His lover didn’t look it, with his well-cut dramatic clothes, long bohemian hair and a multitude of piercings.

Camille had expressed his surprise when Max had introduced them at first, eyeing Antoine with mild trepidation.

“I didn’t take you for a cradle-snatcher, Maxime,” he muttered when Antoine was occupied. “Or that your taste was sooo,” Camille rotated his wrist around, “wild? Alternative? Hell bent for leather and tight pants?”

Max glared at his best friend. “Antoine is very intelligent and mature. His fashion choices are his alone and he’s only ten years younger than me.”

_And his clothing makes him look unfairly attractive. Those jeans can be quite fun to take off, if we’re being patient. Not to mention what that tongue piercing can do to me._

Max grinned to himself, feeling very silly.

“What?” Antoine asked softly as he walked back in, pulling his shirt over his head as he did so.

Max shook his head. “Rien.” He shivered. “I’m cold, Antoine.”

His lover slid into the bed, and wrapped his much longer limbs around him, warming him immediately.

“Try to sleep now. I’ll keep you warm.” A soft voice promised in his ear and Max had just enough energy left to smile, snuggle into his chest and sigh.

“Of course you will. I love it when you’re right.

\- FIN.


End file.
